We are broken, but we are strong
by shining.bright.as.the.stars
Summary: What happens when a broken girl and broken boy meet each other in a broken world? Inspired by The Hunger Games and The Mortal Instruments AKA: a mash-up!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Without Breaking**

It had been one week.

One week since the sickness had finally won. One week since Luke had died. One week since her mother had retreated inside of herself, confiding in only her paints and the walls of their house. One week since Clary's life as she knew it had been forever changed.

It had been three days.

Three days since Clary's birthday. Three days since Clary's mother, Jocelyn, had completely ignored her. Three days since the first birthday Clary could even remember that Luke had not been there.

_Luke_…

Dismissing thoughts of _that_ _man_, Clary sighed and grabbed her bag to go to school. Silently leaving the house, she shook her head and wondered why must bad things happen? Making up her mind to simply try and survive this day without breaking, she made her way towards her friends.

"Hey Clary!" Simon shouted, completely oblivious to her somber mood. As she came up and only nodded in response, he frowned and said, "Why so quiet? Aren't you going to say hello or anything?"

"Of course she's not you freaking idiot! Are you BLIND? There is no way you could expect Clary to be happy today after Luke…" Isabelle dropped off, not certain if mentioning Luke was the best thing to do right now.

"Go ahead Izzy. It's fine to talk about Luke like he's dead. I've accepted that by now," Clary murmured, the first thing she had said in what felt like years.

"Are you okay?" Isabelle asked softly, as if she was speaking and only Clary was there, not Simon.

"I'll survive. Don't worry; you'll still have your hunting buddy. It's just… I feel so… tired, I guess."

"Okay, chica. Just know that I'm here for you whenever you need me," Isabelle whispered softly, giving Clary a gently squeeze before she moved away.

They continued their journey to school in silence, slowly making their way towards the torturing chamber of the almighty upper-class.

* * *

**A/N: So... this is my first story/chapter/thing. Constructive criticism is welcomed! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The True Beginning**

School was miserable. Seeing all those smiling faces, completely oblivious to the tragedy that had rocked her world. Clary just couldn't take it.

And worst of all, even her closest friends didn't understand. Simon acted as if he didn't even know Luke had died, as if nothing ever happened, just like the rest of the class. But Isabelle… Isabelle was worse. She was treating Clary as if she was made of glass, and would break with the slightest of pressure.

Therefore, Clary found herself trudging home alone. She didn't really want to go home. Home was where her mother was. Home was where Luke was supposed to be. Home was where the grief, the sorrow, the mourning all existed thousands of times greater than when she was on her own.

Suddenly, a voice tore her out of her inner thoughts. "Clarissa!" the voice called. "Clarissa, wait up!"

This was the first clue she got that whoever was calling her name didn't know her very well. Her close friends all called her Clary, as did her mom and…

Sighing, she turned around to see who was yelling at her… And froze. Jace Herondale, the upper-class golden boy, was coming her way, looking at her. WHY would HE, one of the popular HIGH CLASS boys, want to talk to HER? Might as well see.

Finally he neared her enough so that she could talk to him in a normal voice. "What do you want?" Clary asked. Jace stood, looking slightly awkward, slightly like he didn't know what to say. After a moment's pause, he answered softly, "Well, I heard about your father…"

"And what?" Clary snapped. "Came here to make fun of me because you have something I don't?"

"No, actually. I guess I just wanted to say that I know how it feels to be in mourning, unable to do anything but mindless work, and thought that you… well, living where you do and everything… might need something so you don't have to force yourself to do anything you can't right now," Jace said quietly, looking off into the distance.

This made Clary soften. _That is possibly the best thing anyone has said to me all day_, she thought. "Okay, fine," she murmured, "I guess I can take your charity."

To this Jace smiled, and leaned over and took a bag out of the schoolbag they were all given at the beginning of the year to carry anything they needed.

"Here," he said, taking his eyes off of the ground and glancing at her face. Clary was struck at how _golden_ they were. She just wanted to study his face, specifically his eyes, a masterpiece of colors and contrasts.

Shaking herself back to reality, she managed a small smile and the words, "Thank you," before Jace turned, with one last glance at her, and walked away.

Eventually, Clary realized she was standing in the same place, staring in the direction in which Jace had disappeared. Looking away, she started on her way home.

* * *

"Mom! I'm home!" Clary called. She was greeted, as usual in the week since Luke's death, with silence.

Sighing, she walked into the area of the three-room house that served as the dining room and dumped the bag Jace had given her on the table.

Opening it, her mouth dropped open. Inside was baker's bread, and meat. Of course, she could have gotten the meat herself from hunting, but this meat was cut with such precision, and had been cooked for preservation so she wouldn't have to do anything when she wanted a meal.

The gift made sense, as Jace's father was the butcher and his mother was the baker, but all she could wonder was _Why?_

Why does, out of everyone, the baker's son notice the tragedy that ripped my life apart, but no one else?

_Why does he care?_

* * *

**_A/N: _So, the second chapter's up :) How was it? And ideas for how I should go on? I have an outline, but there are big gaps between the important stuff... and there is a big gap here. Do you want me to introduce Magnus? Alec? Should there be some hunting with Isabelle? A chapter from someone else's POV? And BTW, reviews will get me writing faster. Maybe I'll put eveything that I just mentioned in before the next big event...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Into the Woods**

The next few days of school went awfully slow. After the run-in with Jace, Clary didn't know what to think anymore. She didn't know what to expect. He didn't come up to her and talk, but he didn't ignore her either.

There were many classes where she would look up and find his golden eyes looking directly at her. He looked not like the prey she hunted in the forest, but he didn't resemble a hunter. Jace just looked… curious? This staring caused school to be very awkward, with many girls shooting her nasty glares and whispers behind her back of how she and Jace had "hooked up."

Clary was glad for the weekend. No school, no expectations, no staring, no rumors. Just her, Izzy, their weapons, and the forest, so free and full of life.

The weekend was their time to hunt, get the week's food for their families, and escape from the harsh reality of the world. The forest was bountiful, with berries, herbs, animals, eggs…

And it was the reason Clary found herself waking up at 7:30 in the morning, rolling off of her straw-filled sack that served as a mattress, pulling on her clothes, stepping into her boots she wore everywhere, and running off to the Lightwoods with an ever so quiet step.

_Knock. Knock._

"Hey Clary," Alec said softly, as he cracked open the door to glance at who was outside.

"Hey Alec." Alec was Izzy's older brother, and served as the head of the family as his father had died in the same accidental explosion that Jocelyn said her father had.

"Izzy will be out in a second. You know how she is," Alec murmured with a smile in his voice.

Yes, she did know what Isabelle was like. Isabelle was one of the few that lived in the poor part of the district, the Seam, that could roll out of bed looking fabulous, but even with that she insisted on looking "nice" at all times.

_As if there is anyone to impress in the woods_, Clary thought. Clary didn't have anyone to impress, and the people she might want to impress wouldn't look twice at her because she lived in poverty. She was so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear Alec ask her, "So what is this between you and Jace?"

Confused, Clary responded, "What do you mean? There is nothing between us."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. As if he's not staring at you every second of school. I've heard the rumors, and have been able to differentiate the false from the true."

"He's just staring at me because he gave my family bread and meat after Luke died. Maybe Jace is one of the few merchant-class that have a heart."

To this Alec laughed. "You don't know how right you are, Clary. But I also know Jace. He doesn't do anything with a reason."

"Sure, you KNOW Jace. Like I know President Blackthorn."

"I actually do know Jace. He is one of my closest friends, if you haven't noticed. He also knows about…" At this, Alec trailed off. He was very much in-the-closet, and in his family's house, he was not about to talk about his relationship with Magnus.

"Speaking of which, how is dear Magnu…." Clary trailed off as Isabelle treaded through the room, saving Alec from answering the awkward question, yawning, with a muttered, "Hi."

To this Clary smiled, she knew how much of a morning person Isabelle was. "Hey, Iz. Ready to go hunting?"

"More like ready to collapse of exhaustion," Izzy complained. But she pushed Alec out of the doorway, and, as always, said, "Race you there?" and took off running, forcing Clary to sprint to catch up to her.

They reached the edge of District 12 in no time, a row of white-ish towers that had been there as long as Clary could remember. She had been told that they were originally built to keep out demons and creatures of other dimensions, but since the human race had almost annihilated itself, they had moved on to other planets, sucking the life out of more vibrant areas of the universe. Many people still believed they warded off demons, and wouldn't pass them, but Izzy and Clary just walked straight past them as if they didn't even exist.

Silence filled the woods, and neither of them dared break the tranquility of the wonders the forest held. Years before, when Clary had still drawn, she could stare at one patch of the woods for hours, amazed at all of the different shades of green, the splotches of random color, the planes and contrasts, the many details even one small patch of grass held.

But now, the woods held a different importance to her. They reminded her of when her mother still acted as if she were one of the living. Jocelyn had been the one who taught her to hunt. They would spend hours out in the woods together, training, hunting, laughing.

Jocelyn would tell her stories of the old days, stories that her parents had told her, that their parents had told them, and back and back and back. Stories of great Shadowhunter lands, a homecountry called Idris, stories of battle, of honor, of love, of loss, but mainly, of freedom and happiness and equality.

Jocelyn had said that Clary hailed from two of the greatest Shadowhunter dynasties there had ever been, one, obviously that of the Fairchild's. But her mother would never mention her father's surname, saying it brought back too many painful memories.

Shaking off her thought, Clary sighed and grabbed her weapons belt, clipping it on her waist, and checking that all of her knives were still there. Forcing herself to smile, she uttered the first words breaking the tranquility of the forest. "Iz, where do you want to start today?"

To this, Isabelle paused, pretending to think. "Oh, I don't know… maybe we could set some traps?"

"Maybe I could set come traps? Last time, you snared me!"

"Aw, live on the wild side chica. Have a little fun once and a while. You gotta admit, it was kinda funny."

"Funny? How could an evil trick like that be FUNNY? You gave me nightmares for a week!" Clary said incredulously, causing Izzy to burst out laughing.

"You… should have… seen… the look on… your… face… Priceless!"

Sticking her tongue out at Izzy, Clary turned to saunter away, and froze. Isabelle had since gotten a hold of herself, and had reverted back into the usual hunter's silence.

"By the Angel," Izzy breathed. "Is that what I think it is?"

They were staring at a doe, completely oblivious to them, softly chewing on dewy blades of grass not far away. The noise of the awakening forest engulfed them, birds chirping, leaves rustling, streams gurgling; all had ceased to exist except for the here and now. Barely breathing, it was as if Clary and Isabelle were moved by an invisible force. One to the left, one to the right. Draw a knife from the weapons belt and throw. Both knives made their mark, hitting the doe in the head and gut.

They had just brought down a deer.

The reality of this had still not washed over either of them. "Well, what do we do now?" Clary asked.

"We could keep it. Do you know how to gut a deer? I don't." Turns out neither of them knew how to gut a deer.

"Fine," Isabelle said, "We could take it to the butcher. I bet he would pay handsomely for such a prime catch."

_He would,_ Clary thought, _but what if I see Jace? Would he turn me in? Would he stare at me like he has been? Would he finally talk to me…_

_ Would he ignore me?_

Butterflies filled her stomach, and all she could trust herself to do without throwing up was nod her head.

* * *

**A/N:Hey guys. Sorry it took so long to update... I'm just not committed to anything at the moment, so the fact that three chapters are up is a miracle within itself. By the way, thanks for all the reviews helping me decide which direction to go... NOT. That might possibly have a little bit in my delay in writing this chapter. Having no idea in which direction to go, and having no verbal support. But anyway, the chapter's up. I originally thought it would be more of a filler chapter, but it turned out more important that I thought it would. You get a lot of BK. So, hope you enjoyed it. Review please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: I care what happens to you**

The weekend flew by like this for Clary, rising early, hunting all day with Izzy, and selling their spoils to their customers back in the district. She avoided her home at all costs. Home: once a warm, welcoming place, full of life and laughter. Now, it was a dark, cold place, so silent you could drown in the noise (or lack of). It sang of death, sounded of death, even smelled of death. Sunday night was always the worst—it was the night that staying in her own broken home was required, "resting up" before school the next day.

It was impossible to sleep in this prison.

Waking up from her short, fitful sleep, Clary groaned. She knew she would never be able to fall back asleep. _I am so breaking the rules and going to Isabelle's tonight,_ she thought. Getting up, she sighed and slowly got into her clothes for the day, brown, ratty pants, with the uniform shirt the school required she wear, possibly the nicest thing she owned that wasn't for… special occasions. Her mother had a soft black dress that gathered below her breasts and from there had layers flowing from the waist to where your knees were supposed to be. But this was for the Reaping, the day the Capitol required you dress up for.

After dressing, Clary went to study the only book that she and her mother had in their possession. Jocelyn called it the Gray Book, and said it held runes that their ancestors would put on their skin to give them power using a stele. She had seen pictures of steles in History class, but had never seen one in real life. The teachers said steles had become nonexistent after the Uprising, a war of Shadowhunter against Shadowhunter, those who thought humans were equals against those who thought humans should be oppressed. Needless to say, it was obvious who had won.

The winning side had thought that they had every living Shadowhunter on their side. They were wrong.

There were those like Clary who had Shadowhunter heritage who trained in secret, hoping to get their hands on these so-called nonexistent tools of battle, seraph blades, steles, chakrams, blades of the stuff of heaven, and the like.

This was why Clary took out the Gray Book, and, in the early morning hours, continued her study of these symbols, committing their use and shapes to memory. All in hope of one day being able to fight to her freedom. She knew that there were others like her, with Shadowhunter heritage. You could tell simply by last name. Lightwood was another Shadowhunter name. Another reason why she and Izzy were like sisters… Another reason why this community was so tightly bonded.

District 12 had many Shadowhunters-in-training. It was said that District 12 had just as many as the Capitol, that District 12 had been the refuge of those Shadowhunters on the losing side, of those Shadowhunters who treated normal humans, mundanes, as equals.

The sun rose as Clary studied, and finally it was time for her to head to school. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she took off running to the spot by the only water pump in the Seam where she always met her friends to walk to school.

"Wow, girl," Izzy said, "Late much?"

Laughing, Clary responded with, "I actually got up before dawn, but got… side tract." Isabelle would know what she meant. Her other friends wouldn't.

"Well, next time, try to NOT get side tract," Laurel, another girl in her group of friends, commented teasingly.

"I don't know, maybe she was worried about making a good impression of Jace today. You know, since he has been staring at her 24/7," Isabelle said, playing along with Laurel.

Feeling the blood starting to creep up to her face, Clary muttered, "I barely know him, guys. He was probably just making sure I was okay after giving me food. By the Angel, let it go."

"Sure, will do," Laurel said, while trying hard not to laugh. Izzy, on the other hand, wasn't even trying to hide her giggles.

"C'mon, let's just go to school. We're going to be late anyways."

School was a fight, as always. It was impossible to concentrate, and the upperclass were always on her nerves. It wasn't that she couldn't beat any of them up in the blink of an eye—she could—it was that she wasn't allowed to, and therefore had to put up with their taunts as the day wore on.

"Hey slut," Arianna Valenti would call out, "Is Jace good?"

"Bitch," others would say.

The worst were Jace's friends. Well, she wasn't sure if she would call them Jace's _friends_. They just hung out around him because he was good-looking and popular, every girls dream. Being "in" with Jace was an instant girl turn-on.

At lunch that day, they had come up to her. "Hey pretty thing," one of them, Dylan, said. "How about you come to me instead of to Jace? I mean, he is popular and all, but I can give you your dreams." Clary gritted her teeth and ignored him. Dylan was the school's man-whore, getting into every girl's pants he could, playing with their feelings, only to dump them after they became used goods.

"Nah, man," his friend Jakob said, "I could give her the ride of her life. Everything she ever wanted, and then some."

Clary was about to punch them in their faces, and break the rules her mother had given her, when Jace came up behind them. "I don't know what the hell you guys are talking about," he said icily, "But leave Clary alone. She doesn't need your bullshit. Now go." The look on his face was frightening. A predatory light had entered his eyes, blazing with anger like a golden fire.

After watching them leave in fright, Jace looked at her with a much softer expression, echoing the one he had worn this weekend.

_She and Izzy had just brought down a doe, and were bringing it to the butcher's to sell. There was a back door to his house, where he would deal with them, buying fresh meat instead of the packaged stuff the Capitol sent him._

_Isabelle had knocked on the door. They had waited a while, and she was just about to suggest leaving and coming back later, when he answered the door. Jace. Glancing at them, he said, "You can come in. My father will be with you quickly."_

_They stepped into the back room where many of their spoils were sold just as Stephen Herondale, the butcher, ran into the room. When he saw the doe, his face lit up. Isabelle went to deal with him, like she always did. She was much better at handling people._

_Noticing this, Jace had looked at her, and said, "How are you doing?" Looking away, Clary had quietly replied, "Okay."_

"_Well, just let me know if you need anything, no matter how small. Got it?" Jace had asked her, with a soft expression on his face that could have said, "I care what happens to you." She repeated, "Okay," watched Jace nod, smile the memory of a smile softly, turn around, and walk back into the front of the house._

"Sorry about that," Jace said, jerking Clary back to what served as the lunchroom. "They're like more of the merchant class, idiots, taking everything for granted… Sometimes I think that something bad needs to happen to them to make them more human."

To this Clary smiled, and Jace smiled back. And then turned and walked away.

* * *

_Thank the Angel,_ Clary thought, _that this is the last class of the day_. It was a mash-up of history, present-day issues, and language arts, and was always group work.

In her seat, she watched the teacher walk up to the front of the classroom and take roll like she always did. But then, something odd happened. Ms. Carstairs didn't just say, "Okay class, get out your worksheets," like she always did… She didn't even say anything. She just walked to her desk, got out a list of some sort, and walked back to the front of the room.

"Okay, class. I know you are all wondering what I'm doing," Ms. Carstairs said with a smile. "Well, we are doing something different. We are going to do a project in which you will pick a theme to connect to today, to your lives, and to history, and create a presentation. You will be working in partners whom I have already assigned."

Clary zoned out as the teacher's monotone voice echoed out in the classroom. She guessed that Ms. Carstairs had begun to list off the pairs that they would be working with, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to not get stuck with idiots who make her do the entire project. But with what she heard next, Clary knew she should have wished for something entirely different.

"Clarissa Fairchild and Jace Herondale."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Who are you, and what have you done with yourself?**

"So, we meet again," Jace said cheekily.

"Yeah, the fates must be against us," Clary snapped, and immediately scowled. _There is no way I can work with him for the next month and a half!_ She inwardly screamed. First he acts all charitable, which is a huge issue because she hates depending on people, then he acts as if he cares about her. Those from the upper-class and lower-class do not mix. It's just a rule of life.

"What's up with your attitude?" Jace said. "Is it something… something at home?" he breathed softly, so only she could hear.

"No, and if you would stop prying it would be lovely." Clary didn't know why she was being so hostile. Maybe because people who cared about her, who tried to help her, always got hurt. Maybe because she was so used to the status quo that going against it seemed insane… Maybe because she was afraid of Jace. Not of him physically, but of who he was. Kind, sweet, funny, popular… And he was focused on her.

Jace looked at her oddly, obviously confused at her sudden change in temperament, and then rolled his eyes. "Well, if you insist on acting like that, we could at least come up with a topic. You know, get some work done?"

Feeling about ready to explode, Clary nodded. The more work they get done in class, the less she would have to see him. "Let's get to work."

By the end of class, they had nothing to show for it. Simple topics like "hunger," and "loss." Things everyone else would have thought of.

"So, I guess we'll have to work on this at home?" Jace commented quietly, unsure of anything with Clary's attitude change.

"Sadly. Look, I'm busy all week, but on Saturday I'll come by the butcher's shop and we can work then," Clary said frostily, turning and running home.

* * *

"I'm home!" Clary yelled, expecting an empty, broken home to respond with silence.

"Good. By the Angel, Clary. You took forever getting your sorry ass over here. Hurry up, I still need to train you," Jocelyn blurted out very commander-like, completely unlike the depressed, silent woman Clary had left at home that morning.

Completely confused with the change of events, Clary couldn't help herself. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? Have you completely forgotten Luke? Or my father? Why are you acting like this?"

Something flashed across Jocelyn's eyes, rage maybe? Clary couldn't tell. "I have not forgotten Luke, you… you… I realized that Luke would die in vain if I didn't keep on living. If I died along with him, you would have not finished your training. Luke trained you often. I neglected my duties. Now, I'm not. So get moving!" she snapped, not over her heartbreak but apparently trying to move on.

Stunned, Clary moved for her training gear, flexible pants, her soft leather boots, and the wooden sticks that served as knifes. Following her mother to the forest, she wondered, _What happened that I don't know about?_

In the forest, her refuge, Clary relaxed. "We're here," her mother said. Clary looked around. They were in a clearing, about 20 feet across, completely surrounded by trees and bushes.

"No one will find us here. It's covered in glamour, specifically for descendants of Shadowhunter's use. Now… think fast," Jocelyn called to her, spinning around in a blindingly fast motion and throwing one of the makeshift knives at Clary so fast that she didn't even have time to move. It hit her in the stomach.

"If that had been a real knife, you would be dead. Move quickly. Trust your instinct." With that, Jocelyn threw knife after knife at her, laughing and giving out advice all the while.

* * *

Jace starred after Clary as she ran off. _What was it about her that was so infuriating yet so captivating at the same time?_ he asked himself. Maybe it was just because she was from the poor side of town, genuine, unlike the fake population in the merchant class. Maybe… Maybe he didn't care. Why was he worrying about her problems, when he has issues of his own? Jace didn't know.

Sighing, he made his way home, unenthusiastic as he knew it would only be Celine, and not his father.

Celine.

He hated her with all of his being. She wasn't his real mother, she just pretended she was to preserve the image of a perfect family.

_Perfectly fucked up family_, Jace thought.

And he, the bastard child only his real mother cared for, was stuck right in the middle of it.

Sometimes, he wished he had a different life. Any life. Even poor Clary's, with both fathers having died.

Jace didn't even realize where he was until a middle-aged lady came running out of her shop, yelling, "Jace! Jace! How was school?"

Turning around, he smiled. Amatis, the town seamstress. "It was okay. In current-day applications we have to do partner work…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Sure, Amatis knew everyone in the district, and had been the one who had shown him that the poor were better people that those he lived with, but he didn't know how to finish that sentence, especially with how Clary had been acting today.

"And who's your partner?" Amatis supplied for him.

"Clary."

"The fireball? Whose father just died?"

Jace bit his tongue. "Yeah."

"You're awfully quiet on the subject, Jace… Is there anything you're leaving out?" she teased, her eyes, so much like his, twinkled.

"Mmmm…. Nope. That's all that happened today. Yep. All I can think of," Jace said, smiling. He knew Amatis could see through his act.

"Well, you tell me when you think of more that happened today, okay?" Amatis smiled warmly, patting him on the shoulder and saying, "Have a nice day Jace. Now, run along and get home. Don't want Celine getting too worried over your absence."

Knowing she was right, Jace sighed. "Bye! I'll stop by sometime later, 'kay?" and headed home.

Finally at the butcher's and bakery, Jace stopped. Glancing up at the windows, he noticed one light flickering. Shit. His father hadn't reappeared yet. Making a face, Jace headed towards the back entrance, hoping that Celine wouldn't hear the door open.

Creeping in, Jace slowly made his way up the stairs, and into his room, and relaxed. So Celine hadn't noticed. She must be more drunk that he thought. Or maybe just… busy…

Grabbing his homework, he moved to sit down when the door opened.

"Thought I didn't hear you, didn't you?" Celine growled nastily. "Thought you could get away with everything you do to me!"

"You bastard, you rotten," punch, "little," punch, "lying," punch, "Godawful reminder of that little bitch!" Jace lay on the floor, wondering what would come next. He knew he could, in all theory, fight her off. Once, when he was younger, he did. But the next beating was only worse. One of her little sex buddies had come in to help her, throwing Jace against the wall until he lost all consciousness, then breaking both legs so he wouldn't be able to get help when he came to.

Suddenly, Celine grasped the collar of his shirt and hissed in his face, "It's your fault that Stephen doesn't love me." She brought her high-heeled shoe to his abdomen, making him gasp in pain, and then, she put her hand in her belt and pulled out a knife. Sure, she didn't know how to use it, but even in her incompetent hands, a blade could do damage. Still attempting to recover from her kicks to his stomach, Jace gasped, "No…. no…."

"You don't like this, do you, little angel boy. Well, we'll see how you like _this_." And for the first time, Celine let him bleed. She cut down his abdomen several times, getting deeper with each slice, the rolled him over to attack his back. "This is what you get for standing in my way to greatness, Celine hissed, and got up to leave the room. The last thing Jace heard before losing consciousness was the lock in the door clicking.

* * *

**A/N: So, fifth chapter. I have been fighting with myself to write this for about a week. Well, longer than that. Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed, and thanks for the constructive criticism. I tried to encorperate suggestions into the story :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: On Our Own**

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Clary was smiling as she got ready for school. Getting her mother back was more than a miracle. It was unbelievable.

Inconceivable.

She could only hope that this one-eighty in her mother's actions was more than temporary. Jocelyn herself had said that she was in a fragile stage, and that the smallest thing might throw her back into her depression. Clary accepted this.

Even if her mother did sink back into an oblivion of sadness, Clary would know, or at least have hope, that she could climb back out. And sometimes, hope is all you need.

"Bye, mom! Going to school!" The door slammed behind Clary, and once again, the house entered a silence where the only sounds were Jocelyn brushing more paint on what served as a canvas.

The day flew by. No one interrupted the teachers to make sarcastic comments, no one teased her about any imperfection they noticed, no one assumed wrongly and called her a slut. Well, no one but Arianna. The freaking hypocrite.

Life was good until current-day applications came around. It was time to work on the project… But Jace wasn't there. A wave of anger went through Clary like a wildfire. How dare he leave her to work on the project all by herself!

Wait a second… Jace wasn't there.

Jace wasn't there.

Jace.

Wasn't.

There.

Jace was never absent! He was the teachers figurative and literal "Golden Boy." Respectful, quiet, never missed a day of school… Perfect. Well, to the teachers, at least.

Clary's original anger faded into worry. Jace never missed any school! Something must be seriously wrong if _Jace_ had to skip school. What could have happened? Was he incredibly sick? Or injured? Or maybe the bakery lost a ton of money? Not that that would happen… But _Jace_ did _not_ just _skip school_. No hooky days for that dude. None. Nada. Zip. Zero.

So what was going on?

Her incessant inner pondering was saved by the bell. After grabbing her books, Clary met up with Isabelle to walk home.

"So, Jace wasn't here today. He never skips school. What do you think is up with this?"

Izzy scuffed her shoe on the ground. "I don't know, and don't particularly care."

"But… it's _Jace_. He never skips."

Izzy sighed. "You never give up, do you? Maybe he just got sick of dealing with people. Already said, I don't really care for my brother's friends. Why do you care so much?"

Glaring at Isabelle, Clary replied, "He's my partner for that awful current-day applications project. I got nothing done today." She glanced over at Izzy, finding a smirking face looking back at her.

"I was right, wasn't I? You totally like him!" Izzy was squealing. "Don't worry, he totally likes you too. It is_ soooo_ obvious. The way he looks at you when you aren't loo…"

"I _do not_ like Jace. I was just wondering what was wrong…" Clary trailed off, thinking to herself.

_Do you like him? You enjoy spending time with him, look at him probably more than you should… _

_But I look at him to draw him! Jace has an interesting face! And I have an artists eye! _

_But is that all? Many boys have interesting faces, and his is the only one you have noticed. _

_Shut up, brain._

"Well, there's my home! I must go!" And with that, Isabelle flounced off.

* * *

The first thing Jace was aware of was the pain. The all-comsuming pain, leaving little space for anything else.

The second thing he was aware of was the blood. It covered the floor, turning the "expensive" wood to a muddy red-brown color, and looked like it had emanated from… him.

Wait, what?

_Well, that would explain the pain_, Jace thought.

Groaning, Jace lay there in pain, remembering all the other times he had lay there, in pain. However, he had always been able to get up and act as if nothing happened.

Needless to say, this time way different.

But what had happened, anyway?

Jace turned his struggles inwards, as he attempted to remember last night… Well, he thought it was last night. In this amount of pain, who knew how long he could have been blacked out?

_What could have drawn blood?_

Jace suddenly tensed and froze, as if he could have gotten any stiller than when he was previously lying there.

_Celine… Knife…_ He thought. _Celine had a knife. She cut me._

With this realization, Jace went numb. He had been cut with a knife many times before, but not like this. All the times before, he had been with his father in a clearing in the forest past the wards, training. Learning how to wield blades blessed by the angel.

_Well, at least training went over how to care for a knife injury._

His body screaming in protest, Jace pushed himself up, noticing that the cuts had not, in fact, stopped bleeding.

Entering the bathroom, he grabbed a rag, got it wet, and slowly, painfully, began the process of cleaning the cuts. Thank the Angel Celine had a knife, and not a stone, or something that wouldn't make clean cuts.

Many painful minutes later, Jace could say that every wound on his body was as clean as it was ever going to be.

Slowly grabbing the poultice his father had hidden inside the shampoo bottle for knife injuries from training, Jace silently wished, not for the first time, for a stele like those that they talked about in history, and that the runes he studied required.

Applying the poultice was much more difficult that cleaning his wounds. No matter how much he twisted in agony, or attempted positions impossible to man, there was no way he would be able to reach parts of his back. Eventually, Jace just gave up.

Feeling tired, he grabbed the gauze, and wrapped his entire chest. _Be back to re-apply this crap in a couple hours._ Walking back to his room to sleep, he realized that there was no way he could go to school tomorrow, and possibly not the next day, depending on how quickly his Shadowhunter-heritage skin allowed him to heal.

Collapsing on his bed, the last thing Jace thought of was something his father had once said to him.

**_"There may be a God, there may not be. Either way, we're on our own."_**

* * *

**A/N: So, the next chapter is finally up. Sorry for the long wait :/ I honestly have no excuse. I'm just too lazy. The only thing prompting me to write is that I _should_ be doing awful homework over summer break. I'm not. Anyways, this was just supposed to be a filler chapter... I didn't really want to jump straight to friday, when Clary and Jace meet up to work on their project, with nothing inbetween. So, sorry, and...**

**REVIEW! Pretty please REVIEW!**


End file.
